The Two Great Loves of Martin Crieff
by T. Z. Townshend
Summary: Martin Crieff is depressed at the fact that the Triwizard Tournament means no Quidditch until a girl from Durmstrang comes along and makes things more than bearable. Team Bobsled


Martin Crieff was more than merely disappointed when he learnt that Quidditch had been cancelled for the whole year because of the Triwizard Tournament. He was utterly devastated. It was as if his entire reason for existing had been taken away from him. Even his friends, one who was in a perpetual state of cheeriness and the other a boy who always seemed to have the solution to everything, could not find anything that would bring Martin out of his exceedingly glum mood. On weekends, they always found him alone at the Quidditch Pitch, flying around on his broom and practicing defending the goal posts with a football he'd enchanted to throw itself at the hoops. Douglas, who was captain of the Slytherin team, tried to make things more fun once by getting up on his broom with his Beater's Bat and hitting a Bludger towards Martin every so often. This ended with a very unhappy Martin in the hospital wing and Douglas not interfering with his lonely weekends at the Quidditch Pitch ever again.

Martin's school marks slipped along with his mood until Professor Sprout, his Head of House, called him into her office to asked what was wrong.

"You're a hard worker and an excellent student, Mr. Crieff, so what's happening? Is there anything I can do to help?" the plump woman asked, her voice gentle but full of concern.

"Well, I-I...things just don't feel right without Quidditch," Martin confessed sheepishly and Sprout gave him a sympathetic smile.

"I see. I'm sorry, dear, but I'm afraid there's nothing I can do to help you there. Perhaps you could find something new to occupy yourself during the time you'd usual spend on Quidditch."

"I have tried, but nothing's like Quidditch." Professor Sprout was at a lose for what to do for him. She ended up sending him to Madam Pomfrey to see if the healer could treat his emotional distress. He was given a potion and told to put two drops on his tongue every morning. This improved his mood enough to allow him to focus better academically, but he still spent his weekends alone on his broom.

The weather got colder, but Martin persisted in his habits. Even when it snowed heavily in December, he still went out to the Quidditch Pitch. No one ever came to watch him or join him. Not until one afternoon he looked up and there was a beautiful brunette girl in a scarlet Durmstrang uniform sitting in the stands, looking right at him. He nearly fell off of his broom trying to catch his football before it shot through the nearest hoop. After composing himself as best he could, he flew down to meet this mysterious witch, who smiled sweetly at him.

"H-Hullo," he greeted, nearly tripping over his own broom as he touched down in the stands.

"Hi," the girl replied warmly. "What kind of ball is that you have there?"

"Oh, er, it's, er, a football. It's for football. I-I mean, it's for a muggle sport. The Quaffle is locked up right now so I had to, er, improvise," Martin explained, cursing himself for tripping over his own words.

"Oh, I see. You like flying a lot, don't you?"

"Yeah. There's nothing I like better, actually."

"Do you play Quidditch for your house team?"

"Yeah, I'm the Keeper. I'd like to play for England someday." Wow, was he having a real conversation with a pretty girl? Today was his day.

"That's a really nice dream to have. If you keep practicing, you'll probably get to do it. I've always wanted to be a Quidditch player but I'll never be able to do it."

"Really? Why not?"

"I have to go into government like the rest of my family. I'm glad that you have the chance to follow your dreams," the girl told Martin sadly.

"Oh." He didn't really know what to say to that, but fortunately, the Durmstrang girl perked up again.

"My name is Theresa, by the way."

"I'm Martin. Martin Crieff."

"Lovely to meet you, Martin."

"L-Lovely to meet you too."

"Do you mind if I join you? I could play Chaser."

"Yes! I-I mean no! I mean please, please do!" Theresa's smile broadened and she went off to fetch her broom. The whole time he was waiting, Martin wondered if he had scared her away, but she came back, Firebolt in hand (he tried not to turn to jelly at the sight of it, envious Cleansweep owner that he was). They spent the rest of the afternoon together, playing until their faces and limbs had gone completely numb. Before they parted, Martin for the castle and Theresa for the ship, he got an idea that fell out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?" The words rushed out almost too quickly to comprehend, but perfect Theresa of course understood him.

"Sure," she answered brightly. "I'll see you later, Martin." She then kissed his cheek and he felt as if he had just flown into the sun as he watched her walk away. What had just happened? He trudged back through the snow to the castle, whereupon he was met by his friends.

"Could it be? Has the Great Martin Crieff finally returned from his arctic expedition? Merlin's Beard, he has! Do tell us of your harrowing battle with the elements," Douglas greeted dramatically.

"I've got a date to the Yule Ball," was all Martin could think to say and the Slytherin boy raised his eyebrows quite high.

"It wouldn't happen to be a polar bear, would it?"

"Oh shut up, Douglas; it's not that cold," Martin shot back, snapped out of his starstruck haze. "Theresa is very clever and beautiful and loves Quidditch and she's _not_ a polar bear. She's a Durmstrang."

"Are they not polar bears? They wear so much fur-"

"_Douglas._"

"Did you _really_ get a date to the Yule Ball? Outside, no less?"

"YES," Martin growled, hands flying up in emphasis. Arthur clapped his hands together in delight.

"That's brilliant, Martin!"

"Thank you, Arthur," Martin replied to his fellow Hufflepuff whilst continuing to glare at a disbelieving Douglas.

* * *

In the weeks before the Yule Ball, Martin's life seemed to turn around significantly. He spent time with Theresa whenever he could, both on the pitch and off. Each day, he fell more and more in love with her. Douglas and Arthur took to her almost immediately when they met her. More surprising was Douglas, who had finally met his match in wit, a fact which seemed to earn his respect rather than his scorn for once.

Martin stopped needing to take Cheering Draught after a while, to the delight of all. He very nearly needed a dose of Calming Draught, however, when he realized only the weekend before Christmas that he didn't have any dress robes for the ball. Fortunately, Douglas, ever the problem solver, took only a minute to provide a solution.

"I think I have some old ones that might fit you, Martin. I'll write to my mum and ask her to send them," he informed the distressed boy casually.

"Really? Would they even get here in time?"

"Of course they will. All I have to do is mention Theresa and she'll be sending them by express owl. Mum's a sucker for stories of young love."

"Thank you, Douglas. That's actually...really kind of you," Martin responded quietly, having calmed down quite a bit.

"I have my moments."

Just as promised, Martin got Douglas's old dress robes well before he needed them. He discovered the night of the Yule Ball, however, that they weren't a perfect fit. They hung rather loosely on him practically everywhere but the shoulders. Still, they were a nice dark blue and they were better than nothing, especially next to the festive green and red nightmare that Arthur chose to wear.

"Why call it a Yule Ball if it's not Christmas-y?" Arthur questioned as he and Martin made their way up from Hufflepuff Basement.

"Good lord, Arthur!" Douglas called upon seeing them and approached with a blonde girl from Beauxbatons on his arm.

"Don't bother, Douglas. He's feeling festive," Martin warned.

"Hullo, Douglas! Who's this?" Arthur said cheerfully.

"This is Melanie and she doesn't speak a word of English, so she won't understand anything you say to her, thank god."

"How did you ask her to the ball?" Martin queried, his noise scrunching in confusion.

"It may surprise you to know that my irresistible charm is also available in French." Martin was about to give a flippant reply when he saw Theresa coming toward them and his jaw dropped. She was absolutely gorgeous.

"Hello."

"H-Hi," Martin stammered and the rest of the world seemed to disappear because nothing was as important as Theresa smiling at him in a lovely lilac gown. With one finger under his chin, she closed his mouth for him and then rested her hand at the crook of his arm.

"Come on, or we'll miss the start of the dance." Martin allowed himself to be led into the Great Hall as he asked himself over and over again how, after a lifetime of poor luck, this had happened to him. Soon, Theresa pulled him onto the dance floor and he did his best to remember the lessons Professor Sprout had given the Hufflepuffs. He didn't know if he could handle the embarrassment of stepping on his date's toes. He relaxed after a while and the atmosphere between him and Theresa became more companionable. She laughed at his silly little jokes and they observed with amusement Professor Shipwright persuading Professor Knapp-Shappey to dance. Martin's nerves only came back when he and Theresa decided to take a break from the energetic beats of the Weird Sisters and he blurted out his feelings.

"Iloveyou." Theresa paused for a moment, just as she was taking a sip of her Butterbeer.

"I love you too, Martin," she then told him softly, beaming and entwining her fingers with his. "I've never met anyone like you before." His heart felt like it was going to explode when she pressed her lips to his and his ears turned bright red.

"Wow," he breathed when Theresa pulled back and she giggled.

"I guess you could say you're a keeper." At that, Martin joined her giggles and a few other couples gave them odd looks, but he didn't care because he was with someone who made him indescribably happy.


End file.
